Denial
by MTVbabe11
Summary: Dean's search for his missing brother, his memory, and the surprising truth about Sammy. Please read and review!
1. Missouri

**Summary: Dean's search for his missing brother, his memory, and the surprising truth about Sammy. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dean, Sam, or Supernatural. The plot is mine. **

**Author's Note: This takes place after "Nightmare," but I'm not exactly sure when. Please review and thank you to everyone who's reading this right now 33 **

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When Dean woke up in the too soft bed, he realized two things: he didn't know where he was, and he didn't know where Sam was. Light was streaming in through the windows of the small bedroom. Even without sitting up, Dean knew this was no motel. No motel held the old-woman style furniture this room held.

Dean only had to reach under his pillow and feel for the long knife to know if he had come here by choice or force. Praying that he would grasp the knife's wooden handle, Dean slipped his hand between the bed and pillow.

He felt nothing.

Dean shot out of bed, than slowed down. He didn't know what he was up against. The wooden door was shut, and Dean figured he could search the room quietly without being disturbed. Dean stumbled over to the full length mirror and examined himself for any bruises or cuts. He was in a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt. Dean didn't see a single mark, but his left leg was throbbing. Throwing the shirt to the ground, he found a few long bloody cuts on his stomach and shoulders. But they were treated, Dean realized, and would heal soon.

He searched for a memory, anything to help him. And then something slivered into his mind . . .

_They were working on a simple case. An old ghost was haunting a colonial house. It didn't cause much damage, but it scared the family with its frequent crying and moaning. _

_"It'll commit suicide in front of us," the mother had whispered to Dean urgently, concerned eyes on her seven year old daughter._

_There was nothing the brothers could do that night, the spirit had "killed" itself and wouldn't be back until the following night. _

_"I need to bother the impala for a little bit," Sam said suddenly. Dean glanced over._

_"What for?"_

_"I need to just pick up some stuff," Sam said quietly before taking the keys. "I'll uh, be back soon." Dean had shrugged it off and began flipping through channels._

_But Sam hadn't come back soon. An hour later, Dean had gotten a phone call, and Sam was on the other line . . ._

That was it. The memory just stopped there, like the rest was erased. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the lumpy bed.

Dean couldn't find a single weapon, so he opened the door and looked around. No one was upstairs. Quietly he walked downstairs, and felt a tingle cover his body. He had been here before. Someone lived here . . . someone he knew . . .

Missouri.

Dean saw her, seated in the kitchen reading a newspaper. The small table had two seats, each with a plate of pancakes in front of it. Without looking up, Missouri suggested, "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in?"

Slowly Dean entered, and sunk into the second chair. He had so many questions; he didn't know where to start.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, child," Missouri added, her eyes still searching the newspaper.

"Why am I here?"

"You don't remember anything, do you?" she said sadly, looking up for the first time. Dean felt oddly tired. Worn, almost.

"No," Dean confirmed. "I don't."

"You got hurt, so I took you in," Missouri answered, taking a sip of her orange juice. He waited for her to say more, but she kept silent as she looked him over. Reading his thoughts, no doubt.

"Do you know where Sam is?"

"Yes, I do. But you know where he is as well. You just don't remember."

"Then tell me where he is!" Dean insisted.

"I think that you should find out for yourself," Missouri said slowly.

"My brother is _missing._ Where is he?" Dean demanded.

"Now you listen here, Dean Winchester!" cried Missouri." You're going to have to trust me here! You know where Sam is, you might even know more than I do. You've faced daemons and monsters. Now face yourself and find the answer."

Dean stood with a glare. How could she? Sam was his brother! He turned and left. It was all he could do to avoid leaping at her in a new hatred and anger. Dean thrust open the door and stepped out into the chilly air. Where the hell was his car?

"Don't worry Sammy," Dean whispered. "I'll find you."

**A/N: Please review! Thanks for reading.**


	2. The Man

**A/N Thank to everyone for the reviews! Of course . . . I don't own Dean, Sam, or Supernatural . . . sigh. Please read and review. Thank you! I know this chapter is a little slow, but I need to get some information in.****

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It's not like Dean _wanted_ to go ask Missouri where his car was.

The last person he wanted to talk to was Missouri. He froze, standing in the wet grass, contemplating. Going back and asking would be sacrificing his dignity and making him only angrier. But if he didn't ask, Dean wouldn't have a car. With a reluctant groan, he turned back towards the house.

Missouri poked her head out of the first story kitchen window. "I don't know where your car is, Dean, so don't bother asking. And if you're done hating me, I'll lend you my car." Dean said nothing, and she reached out with a car key in hand. Taking slow steps, Dean took the car key. His mouth wasn't working. He felt like crap. His left leg--and dignity--were killing him. _Thank you,_ Dean made himself think.

"Mmm hmm," she replied before closing the window. Dean spun around to a car parked in the driveway. Well, it could be worse, Dean figured as he twisted the key in the lock. He drove the car for a few blocks, trying to calm himself down. Where to start looking? Dean didn't even have his memory--just exhaustion and pain and worry.

Dean found himself at the park he had often gone to as a kid--after all, this was where he grew up before that bastard destroyed his family. After locking the car and memorizing its license plate, Dean entered the park and sat down on a random, empty bench. What to do?

Call Dad!

"Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time," Dean muttered as he closed the cell phone. Dad's answering machine, again. Dean had said to the machine, "Dad . . . it says it's May 11th. 2 weeks since the day I can't remember. Missouri knows where Sam is and she won't tell me." A long pause. "Dad--I need you. I need help." Looking back, it sounded pretty damn pathetic.

Well, there goes one idea. Dean slumped down in the bench. Suddenly, he heard someone behind him. The someone reached out before Dean could react and took his wallet. Cursing, Dean sped after him, twisting around trees and following the hooded figure. "I'm gonna kick your ass!" Dean hollered. The man led him into an alley, and Dean cornered him at the end.

The man was tall and lanky, dressed into black blue jeans and black baggy sweatshirt with the hood pulled over most of his face. A smile forming on his lips, he hissed, "I know where your brother is."

**Sorry this is so short! Longer chapter next time, I promise. Please review!**


	3. Demons, Memories, and a Lead

**A/N I don't own Sam, Dean, Supernatural . . . I couldn't resist adding another chapter. Oh, and thanks, reviewers!**

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Dean froze.

If he wasn't desperate, Dean would have known better. He would have leapt forward and stuck, weapon or no weapon. But Dean _was_ desperate, and for this reason, he froze.

The man laughed. "Where is he?" Dean screamed. Very slowly, the man placed the wallet down.

"I don't want your money," he said in reply. He walked over and peered at Dean. Dean used all self control not to leap and attack. This man was a lead. To Dean's dislike, he needed that man.

"Then what do you want?" Dean grunted. Dean was getting pissed--that man let out another long chucked.

"Your life, perhaps?" hissed the man. He's a liar, Dean realized. Using mind games. Dean jumped forward, swinging a fist into the man's stomach. Dean shoved him to ground, pinning him with one hand. With the other, he pulled away the long hood.

If Dean was a normal person, he'd later say, "There were the scariest eyes I've ever seen!" But Dean was far from normal, and this wasn't true.

But the eyes were scary.

Horrifying, even.

The man--demon--had black eyes. Around the pupil was black. The pupil was black. The eyes were black and deep and empty. Seeing those eyes made Dean's blood run cold, it was a blackness that sent shivers down one's spine. The demon began to laugh once more.

Suddenly, the demon was on his feet. He didn't fade away; he seemed to flicker before vanishing. It was over so fast; Dean had no time to react. He just picked up his wallet--he hadn't even realized it was in his pocket--and checked it over. Forty dollars some fake ID cards, and some fake credit cards. Good enough.

Suddenly, another memory hit him, a memory that took place after the phone call . . .

_Dean was wild. He had no car to drive so he ran, arms pumping, feet pounding on the ground. He ran and ran until he reached Jessica's graveyard. After all, her grave was in town. This was the town it had all started in--college and death for Sam._

_It was dark. Night. Dean leapt out with a gun tucked in his pocket. "Dean!" screamed Sam. Dean spun around, searching for Sam. Finally he spotted his figure in the distance._

_"I'm here!" Dean hollered back as he rushed forward-_

Dean blinked several times. So, he didn't remember the phone call. At least he had this. But this didn't answer any questions, this-

-this gave him a location. Dean would visit the motel there, maybe even check Jessica's graveyard. Find something to jog his memory. Dean grinned. He knew what he had to do.

But before Dean could drive there, he had a stop to make. And the place was a small apartment. It was where he and his Dad met up, where they used to stay between hunts. It held all the extra gear, and Dean was sure to need some guns and knives.

Dean drove for a few hours, until exhaustion won. He pulled into a half empty parking lot. The sign read VACANCY, and what Dean needed was to sleep. As he climbed out of the car, his left leg hurt more than ever.

"I need a room, on queen," Dean muttered as he approached the front desk. The woman sitting at the desk peered at him.

"Name, please?" she asked. Her nametag read Kelly. Kelly was on the older side, nearing retirement but not there yet. Her light brown hair--dyed or real?--was kept short in attempt to make her round face seem younger. She had flushed checks, pursed lips, and very large blue eyes.

"Dean Winchester," he responded, leaning slightly on the desk. Kelly stared at him for another minute.

Very slowly, she asked, "You mean Marry's boy?" Dean stood up straighter in surprise.

"Uh, yeah," he stuttered. Dean did not stutter. What was wrong with him lately?

Kelly got a soft look in her eyes. It made her look like a young child. She didn't need short hair, Dean thought; she just needs to keep that innocent look in her eyes. "My you've grown! I'm--well, I was friends with your mother. Though I'm a great deal older than she--than she'd be right now. She was a fine person, Dean."

"I'm sure she was," Dean added. "Look, I'm exhausted, can I have a room?"

"Of course, honey! The room's free," Kelly exclaimed, placing a card in his hand. Dean mumbled thanks and headed to his room. This is what he hated--running into people he used to know. People who used to know his family. Dean tried not to think about those people. Why couldn't they leave him alone?

_When Dean left the next morning, he missed the man by about 45 minutes. When the man arrived, he presented himself to the front desk and asked Kelly, "Have you seen a boy named Dean Winchester? I was told he mighta come to this motel." Kelly searched him with her wise, Grandma eyes._

_"It's important, ma'am," the man said. The lightbolb keeping the lobby lit flickered and turned off. It was stormy and raining like crazy. The man took off his raincoat and hood, revealing his face. Kelly judged people by the look in their eyes, but Kelly couldn't see his eyes in the dark._

_"How so?" she asked._

_"Mr. Winchester has gotten into trouble. I need to deal with him." _

_There was something Kelly didn't like about this man. She was busy typing at her computer, and unknown to the man, she quietly deleted the record of Dean coming here._

_"No," she replied slowly. The man looked slightly unconvinced." I haven't seen the boy in years. Whoever told you he stopped by was wrong."_


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